


Patron

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The arts are coming.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 79





	Patron

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Elenas is said to be on her way,” Elrond announces, eyes skimming from one open letter to the next. Lindir overlays a new piece of parchment, and Elrond seamlessly signs his signature, reading on while Lindir rolls the requisition up to be delivered. “As is Daeron. I know you have little love for dwarves, but it seems their makeshift festival is drawing in quite a few rather accomplished artisans.”

“So I hear,” Lindir agrees. For once, almost all their rooms are booked well in advance, and he’s begun clearing out the Eastern wing in case more should come and need a place to sleep. Imladris is hardly meant to house such large numbers, but every so often, it can’t be helped, and Lindir already knows his lord will want to make every guest welcome no matter their number. Imladris is renowned for its hospitality. Seated across from Elrond, chair pulled up to the back of his desk, Lindir unfurls a scroll laden with supplies coming in from Dorwinion. “Should we send for more wine?”

“We may as well,” Elrond decides. “Whatever our guests do not drink, our Greenwood cousins will on their next visit.”

Lindir’s lips twitch into a faint smile. Elrond hasn’t said it directly, but Lindir still understands the subtext: King Thranduil will drink himself under the table if given the opportunity, and he’ll gripe endlessly if not given enough. Lindir doubles the wine request.

“Lindir.”

His eyes lift in the midst of pulling the patrol list over. There’s so _very much_ to do. But Elrond has fixed him with that unique look that only arises whenever they’re too busy, and Lindir has thrown himself knee-deep into the turmoil. Elrond gently tells him, “This will be a fine time to appreciate the arts, and I do not want you to miss it all in your haste to serve my home. I would like you to enjoy yourself. Perhaps you could even commission a new piece of furniture or a painting for your rooms. I have often thought them rather sparse for someone as complex and enchanting as you.”

A blush fills Lindir’s cheeks—he can feel his face warming right to the very tips of his ears. He ducks his head to try and hide it, though he’s sure his quickened breath has given away the rapid beating of his heart. He wants to say that he needs no such dressing—his pride is in Imladris as a whole, and he prefers Elrond’s office to his quarters. But he hasn’t the heart to reject his lord’s order, and so he toys with the idea of asking for what he _really_ wants.

It takes him a long moment—during which Elrond is blissfully patient—for him to sheepishly admit, “If I... if I might have your permission, my lord... I would rather like to commission a portrait of you.”

His hands fall to his lap, fidgeting there. He can’t bring himself to look up again. He would dearly like Elrond’s handsome face to be the last thing he sees before he sleeps, though he doesn’t at all think his pitiful bedroom is worthy of such a splendid sight. 

Elrond quietly chuckles. He answers, “Of course, my songbird. But any time that you wish to see me in your quarters, you need only ask.”

Lindir is trembling. He’s pink all over. He hears the soft rustle of parchment and knows that Elrond has resumed his work. He isn’t plagued with Lindir’s nerves, though he’s every bit as wondrously demure and peaceful. He’s everything that Lindir aspires to and adores. 

It’s some time before Lindir can suck in a deep breath and return to sorting letters. Then Elrond offers an encouraging smile, and it goes straight to Lindir’s heart.


End file.
